In Plain Sight
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: A police officer in Mulder's apartment during "Gethsemane"...


All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh... 

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org 

Summary: A police officer in Mulder's apartment during "Gethsemane"...Spoilers: well, "Gethsemane" - right?Rating: V, G/PG for possibly disturbing images 

In Plain Sight (1/1)by Sheryl Martin 

What a bloody mess. 

But at least he died. 

Oh, I've seen some of them that lived. They put the gun to the side of their head or jam it into their mouth like they've seen in all the movies; then pull the trigger and think that's it. 

But sometimes they live. 

With most of their brains blown out they can still sit in a chair and mumble for another twenty years or so gumming their veggies, their family sitting around spoon-feeding them what used to be their life. 

This guy, though... he did it right. Lots of brain matter splattered all over the dammed place, making it hard to walk around. So I just find a spot to stand and watch the boys at work. 

So I'm standing there while the detectives walk around, looking for a suicide note or something along those lines. Hey, sometimes a suicide ain't what it looks like, especially when dealing with the Bureau. The coroner already pronounced him dead, which is kinda an easy call when most of his face is on the other side of the room. But rules are rules, and until he says so it ain't suicide. So we go through the paces, checking for anything suspicious that might make it something other than some guy eating his gun. 

I don't think it's anything else, if you ask me. 

But this guy... just looking around his apartment tells me that he's a bit different, a bit off the beaten track more than the other agents I've seen. All this alien stuff on the bookshelves - more than just a passing interest, if you ask me. 

Hey, I've heard the rumours. I watch television. 

Anyway, there's a knock on the door and this woman steps in. 

And it all falls into place. 

She was the number in his wallet to "call in case of an emergency". Like when you blow your brains all over the living room. 

At first I think that she's his assistant, maybe his secretary. But she flashes her badge, and I know she's at least his partner. 

If not his lover. 

And that's probably the reason, you know. 

Now before you come down on me for sounding like a chauvinist, I gotta say that I've seen as many women slash their wrists over men as men killing themselves over a woman. 

Looking at this redhead, I can see why he would. She's a looker, I tell you that. 

But she's cold. Icy in her professionalism. She walks over to the detective who pulls back the sheet and shows her the body. 

I'm waiting for it. The outburst, the crying and the screaming and perhaps the fainting. Just 'cause she's an agent don't mean that she's not human, right? 

Nothing. 

And I mean nothing. 

She looks down at the guy and nods and says "That's him" and then walks away like she was just checking out the fruit at the local store. 

So I'm thinking rejection. Maybe he told her how he felt about her and she told him to go back to work and not think that way; maybe he always wanted to and was afraid of being rejected. 

Or maybe they were lovers and it wasn't good. Although he'd be a fool to not do anything he could to keep her happy. Hell, go buy the books and watch the tapes if you need help with that stuff. 

She sweeps out of the room like a ghost, her trenchcoat waving behind her like angel wings as she strides into the hallway and out of the apartment. 

Nothing. No crying, no nothing. Sometimes they wait until they get outside before throwing up or yelling - that image thing we all try to keep up. 

And all I can do is look around this place and wonder about this Mulder guy - he's a Fibbie and they make good money. He's got this woman to work with and probably a nice spot in the Bureau. Even if he ended up stuck in the basement somewhere, he'd still be making a good dollar; and going to work with this redhead every day would keep me racing to the office. 

And he threw it all away over love. 

I don't think I'll ever understand why people hurt each other like that. 

What a bloody shame. 


End file.
